Walk in the Park
by girl with all the violets
Summary: a mother should be able to take her child to the park. Chapter 12: FINAL CHAPTER please read and rewiew xxxxxx
1. Chapter 1

heya, just a quick 5 chapter story. I was gonna be happy but I am better with sad things so this came out of it.Has anyone seen the promo with Grissom and emotions for season 6 final, well there is a small reference to it at the bottom. I am soooo exited though I am gonna boycott imdb csi and other csi website for like another 2 months until its shown in the UK. oh figs... any who saw 'time of your death' my inner me was boucning up and down lol. anyway have a good weekend.

disclaimer: own nothing but figs

ship: g/s ish...

warning: deals with rape...alot.

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You did not think the word 'rape' as it was not in your vocabulary yet.

You would think 'beat', 'hurt', 'try to kill.' You heard your mother's cries, her screams. You heard her pleading and begging with them. You heard them laughing and yipping at her. You heard them kicking your mother, soft-thudding blows against her flesh. They would grab at your mother's slender ankles, spread her legs violently as if they wished to tear her legs from her body. They laughed at her cries of pain, her terror and her feeble attempts to protect herself. They were reckless and euphoric. You would later learn that they were high on a drug called 'crystal meth.' In their excitement they not even noticed you lying on tiled floor of toilet cubical. They had torn your mother's clothes away from her body and yanked at your mother's hair, pulling it up by the roots. There was a radiant madness to their faces and an unnatural glittering to their wolf eyes, which were so open you could see rims of white above the irises. You could not know how there was a damp sheen on their teeth, how their bodies were covered in oily sweat. How they straddled your mother's weak and limp body and how they jammed their penises into her bleeding mouth and into her bleeding vagina and into her bleeding rectum.

You would hear the noises of this rape, not fully aware that what you were hearing was 'rape'.

* * *

Nick had crinkled in displeasure, the idea of journeying almost 15 miles just for a B&E. But when Grissom said he was joining him, it made things seem little better.

"I used to avoid coming down this road." Grissom spoke elusively and looked over to Nick quickly, whose own gaze was scanning the distance, and then back out on to the open dark road, hands clenching the steering wheel delicately. The sky was filled with disgustingly beautiful clouds.

"How come?" Nick replied.

"This is the road I travelled when I was looking for you, three years ago."

Nick expelled some cool summer night air out of his nostrils.

"So it's a trip down memory lane for you then?"

"Something similar to that. A lot has changed since then."

Nick just nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of change, have you noticed the change in Sara? Of course you have." Nick cleared his throat, a suggestive grin on his face. He began to list the changes; Sara works less overtime, Sara is a lot happier, Sara spends a lot of her time checking her cell phone. However was interrupted when the headlights of the SUV hit a small glittering thing, the breaks hit full on and they both heard a sharp yelp. A girl, no more than seven, dragged herself like a wounded snake towards the car. She had rippling dark hair and shivering skin.

"Are you policemen?"

"Yes, we are," Nick said softly with a warm smile, "can we help you?" Whether the girl needed help or not the two CSI's were going to find out information about her.

"My Mom, she has been hurt. She is sleeping but she won't wake up."

Grissom's head turned to look at Nick's, whose eyes had widened. Gil looked back at the girl.

"Okay, how about we go find you Mom." Gil was trying to keep the shaking child calm but tears kept falling down her dirty face. Nick spoke in to the radio, asking for a medical assistance and backup. He then dialled Sara's cell phone number only to find that she was unavailable to answer and grabbed his kit, following Grissom and the girl.

"Can I hold your hand?" Grissom stuck out his paw and she wrapped her small hand around it. He had had to think about it but the more he did, the more he wanted to offer the child more security than just the holding of a rough, burnt tanned hand. He hated the idea that this girl would never forget this night and that he would have to watch her imprint the image of her mother's mangled and sprawled body. Gil realised he had been referring to her as 'girl.'

"What's your name?"

"Lorena, I was named after my grandmother."

"It's a pretty name."

They were walking on a brick path that was uneven and bumpy. It was leading up to a children's park. The grass was scattered with bird feathers but no birds were seen or heard clearly. The branches and leaves moved in the wind, whip like. Beer cans and litter floated in a scummy pond but it still looked beautiful as the moon's battered face was reflected on it. The path became poorly lighten and Nick called out a few times, just to make sure Gil was still there. Both of them had their flashlights on.

The statue of a mermaid, a freaky deformed female with no legs but a ridiculous curving fish tale, scared Lorena more than the sight of her mother.

"There she is."

Grissom looked at the woman and saw her torn clothing and blooded hidden face and the way one of her arms hung wrongly, they way she was opened legged and opened mouthed and knew it must be rape. She was breathing, he could see her wheeze, her spine move slowly up and down.

"Miss? My name is Gil Grissom, I with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. I have your daughter, she is safe." He called out some more information, how he couldn't help her because of contamination of the evidence but he seemed to have soothed her slightly. Nick came up behind him, slipping his hands in to latex gloves.

"Jesus," he muttered. "I couldn't get through to Sara."

"Try again, Nick." Grissom turned and dragged Lorena along with him, he was trying not to squeeze his anger in to her.

"I know it's her day off but I need her in."

"Yeah boss." Nick punched the buttons and hit the 'call' button.

"I am gonna take Lorena back to the-." Nick and Gil's lungs stopped working and felt like they had morphed in to steel. Gil looked at Nick. Somewhere in his mind, the shrill ring of a cell phone had registered, but in his heart he knew it wasn't true. It was a mistake.

They looked at eat other, still feeling a little dazed and Nick cancelled the call. The ringing stopped. The men were struggling to breath. In life there are no coincidences.

"No…no…no…no…no, no, NO," it had started as a whisper and end in violent shout. Gil ripped his hand away from the child's clasp and ran to the female's side. Nick was back on cell, demanding.

Gil's fingers tangled in her hair, which was splotched with blood, and drew them away from her face and his chest rose as he shinned his harsh light in to her face. She was bleeding from head wounds, what looked like a broken nose and torn lips and pool of dark blood lay beneath her, spreading between from her legs. Her fingernails were sharp and jagged and broken. Tears or blood or semen encrusted her eyelashes and her eyelids were comically half-closed.

He wasn't supposed to touch, he was the guy who never let's emotion influence the evidence. He was the guy that Warrick couldn't be like because he was a robot, he was the guy that Sara wished she was like, that didn't feel anything. What did she feel now?

The sirens were loud and the mermaid watch the scene unfold.

"Get the paramedics in here!"

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thanks for reading 


	2. Chapter 2

Hiya. New chapter.Next one will be up tommorrow. Thank you so much SVUroxmySOX and Tessa for reviewingmy story.

x

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You were seven at the time. Your eighth birthday would arrive too soon in July and depart mostly unheralded. Childhood belonged to before, now you had to live in the after. You and your mother had been taken to hospital. You have never been in an ambulance before. You thought it would be exciting. It wasn't. You wondered about the strange policeman. You heard that the Doctor didn't know if your mother would ever regain this thing call "consciousness." You heard that your mother is on a life support system in the intensive care unit, her condition was "critical." In a coma, for her skull had been "concussed." Her mother was to be fed intravenously and a catheter was to drain toxins from her body in a continuous thin stream. When spoke to the policeman, the doctor was awkward. It was like a bad joke hearing this professional in his hospital costume utter such words as _we can only hope for the best._

* * *

Lorena had been checked out by the medics. She was slumped against Grissom, half-sleeping and trying desperately to keep up the cup of a sugary fruit, which had been spilt and dribbled out of her small pink mouth several times.

Grissom glanced at the large clock on the creamy waiting room wall. It had been half an hour since someone had talked to him about Sara. He propped his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers between them. The room was very empty, some people were sitting quietly, some were crying. Gil wasn't. He was trying to come to terms with everything. That Sara Sidle was lying still in intensive care on the forth floor. That Sara Sidle never got cut a break in life, growing up in an abusive home and now this invasion of her body. That Sara Sidle had a daughter, something that nobody knew about. That Sara Sidle couldn't trust him enough to tell. That made him so furious with her.

In life the only thing a person can be certain of is death. Life wasn't fair; bad things did happen to good people, it was the cruel way of the world. This was different. This was Sara, she was too young, too pretty, too smart and full of life and there was someone else's life that depended on her. The future for Sara couldn't end here, like this, not on this night.

"Gil," Catherine's and Warrick's pace quickened, long, eerily quiet corridor was filled with shoes clattering against the floor and Gil struggled to move himself without jolting the child awake. Catherine just pulled him for a hug and Warrick nodded. The river of blonde curls which framed her face perfectly tickled Gil's cheek as she pulled way and looked at him straight in the eye and breathed out the words, "how is she?"

"Not so good."

"What about you?" Warrick managed to ask in voice that grated so hard it flying with sparks. Gil just tilted his head and gave a small shrug in response. To be honest, he didn't really know.

"Who is the girl?"

"Lorena, Sara's daughter," Gil said wincing slightly and although he spoke nonchalantly and with perfect candour, there was a bitter undertone. Both Catherine and Warrick looked as stunned as he felt. Catherine's mouth dropped open in a silent 'oh' and her eyes flirted between Grissom and Warrick. All of them wanted a thousand answers to a thousand questions. But this wasn't the time.

"She is the only witness."

"Poor girl."

"Where are Greg and Nick?"

"Working the scene, there are no other cases being worked tonight except for this."

"So what are you twodoing here?"

"We've come to collect the evidence. Family Service Councillor and Sofia and Brass will be here soon to talk to Lorena."

Gil's shoulders dropped and breathed out deeply.

"It's too soon."

Catherine turned her neck and looked at Warrick, her dark sapphires, glittering penetrating his glistening emerald eyes that looked as though they had been thrown in to tears; ocean blue meeting sea green. Warrick went and sat next to Lorena and exchanged sweet sleepysmiles.Catherine waited a moment.

"Gil, you know the procedures," she said automatically, is if her body had gone in to pilot mode. "You know that she is the only witness we have so far and we need her account while it is fresh in her mind."

"She is just a child."

"Exactly. The suspect's lawyers will emphasis that point completely. They will insist that Lorena was confused, panicked at the time of assault. That she has not actually witnessed any actual rape, for she had been hiding. She had only heard…" Catherine broke off and rubbed her nose.

"I know that, Catherine." Catherine gently touched Grissom on his shoulder; her manicured, rose pink digits gently pressured his skin

"I have to go." They gave each other weak smiles and Catherine and Warrick turned left in to the room in which Sara Sidle was lying still in on the forth floor in intensive care. Soon the detectives and the Family Service Councillor arrived, but by now Lorena was curled up tight like a kitten, warm and breathing softly. Gil begged them to let Lorena sleep, just for tonight, they can interview her first thing in the morning, just let her have one last dream before she had to relive the nightmare.

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thanks for reading... two x's because I forgot to put on the last chapter - x x 


	3. Chapter 3

thank you Dybdahl, Jessica Summers, Veronica10 and Tessa for reviewing x x x x and thank you to anyone else who checked out this story x

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You were instructed to take you time as you looked at the photographs. You were trying to explain that it happened so fast. So fast! And it was dark! The men's faces…

The women smiled at you the way a kindergarten teacher might smile at her pupils. They tell you, in a slow careful voice, that just because things happened fast it doesn't mean you have to remember 'fast.' You don't like the way the blond has her ponytail pulled back, far to sleek. So many pictures of young men and boys. You began to shiver, eyes wet with tears. You were thinking about when you had thought your Momma was dead on the floor, where they had left her. You thought how you shuck her and whimpered "Please don't die, Mommy! Don't die! Mommy, I love you." The detective stared at you in silence. The Family Services woman took your hand gently but you pull away. You don't want anyone touching your hands. Calling you pet, sweetheart, honey. Saying it would be alright, you would be safe, that police will protect you. Please believe us.

You continued to look at the pictures. Saw a familiar face, and pointed: him? No. Changed your mind. No, maybe not. They all looked like people you saw every day on the street.

This one!

Suddenly you were sure; the guy with the soft brown rock-star hair and a beautiful face which had areas which had broken out in to juicy pus pink pimples. He had been nasty and jeering but he had looked your way. He had come in to urinate afterwards. You had forgotten about that. He was the one that had been grabbing at your mother's breasts and kissing her. You realised now, he was the leader.

This one as well, you almost knew his name. It began with a P... Philip. Philip DeLucca, aged 23 with a bleached bone face, his younger brother was in your class. Later you would identify another Delucca.

Here this one too. Stevenson.

There was another one, you couldn't remember. Except: the detective told you to try again. You did, and there he was.

* * *

"Sean Mason, Philip DeLucca, Richard Delucca, Gary Stevenson, Dean Roberts."

Brass and Gil sat in Brass's office. Lorena was looking at mugshots and was to be taken to a viewing room. The suspects had already been taken in to custody in the early hours, along with several other men that had been brought in for questioning. Clothing and shoes belonging to some of the men had been confiscated. The bloodstains on those items would be matched to Sara's and the semen found in and on her body would be matched against the suspects DNA. The skin tissue underneath Sara's broken nails would be matched against their DNA. Gil looked at the clock, he would be aloud to Sara today.

"All of them have records in Clark country for petty crimes. The DeLucca Brothers and Roberts have spent time in a juvenile facility."

Gil twirled his glasses hand to hand.

"Oh."

"Mason was in jail for a few months because he assaulted his girlfriend. Got out early on good behaviour. She is now missing. Stevenson is on parole from serving time for robbery. All of the suspect live in within 3 blocks of the park."  
Gil nodded slightly.

"Only five were identified by Lorena. Catherine collected eight DNA samples."

Gil felt the tremor of his cell phone against his chest. He had switched it one silent because his bones seemed to jump when ever the ring tone sounded.

"Grissom…Yes…she is? When…? Can I see her…? She did?Thank you." The cell phone snapped shut.

"Sara's awake." Gil looked at the desk, raising an eyebrow and looked up at Brass and stated simply, "I got to go." His throat was thick with emotion, he was choking on it but he didn't filter any of it through.

* * *

Catherine and Lorena were sat in the waiting room of P.D. Lorena talked intently using child logic, followed by a small shrill of laughter. Catherine offered her something from a plastic bag; toffee. Lorena occasionally took a piece and sucked on the toffee, which glued her teeth together, silencing her speech. Gil didn't know what they had been talking about but he saw Catherine push back Lorena's brown locks behind her right ear and tell her,

"Well, I think you are one brave little girl."

Catherine's head came up sharply when she got the prickly feeling that someone's watching you, alerting her to his presence. She smiled.

"Lorena. Your mother is awake."

He had said it so stoically and harshly that Catherine's rich blue eyes automatically punctured Gil's facial features which twisted at Catherine's savage malice. Her teeth were delicately gritted. He closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. No matter how intensely she looked at his face, she still could not recall this expression. He tried again.

"Would you like to go see your mom? I am sure she would love to see you," he insisted in a voice that underscored his sadness. Grissom offered her a dilute smile as well. Lorena raised an eyebrow. She was trying to figure him out, see if he was a monster or a prince. She nodded her head.

"Gil, can I talk to you?"

"Sure."

Catherine winked at Lorena and the adults stepped away from the child, leaving her sat alone, her baby blues dancing around the room. They stood in the centre, Catherine gently pulling at Gil's heavy jacket.

"What it is it Catherine?"

"I think I have a problem with the way you spoke to Lorena just now," she whispered. "Her mother is in hospital and no one has told her why," her voice box broke slightly and exceedingly wide and astonished eyes glimmered with tears in the sickly, CSI light. "She doesn't understand why she is in a building with lots of strange people and why her mother is not around to protect her." As she talked she half played with her necklace. Gil felt it befitted her more than roaring diamonds.

"The last thing she needs is the person who she has spent the most time with talking to her like that."

Catherine placed one hand on a hip and the stretched across her neck. She looked thoughtful. She hated herself for what she was going to say, but Gil had been so unresponsive to everything; to Sara's condition, her incident, to finding out she had a daughter.

"Sara's mother is on her way over from San Francisco, so Lorena won't be a burden to you much longer."

"She's not a burden." He realised that he had spoken louder than he should have, and his and Catherine's head snapped to Lorena who was staring at them. Catherine sigh

"Then start acting like it," she gave a small wave and moved away from Gil.

"Catherine, what about your sweets?"

"You keep 'em, darlin'."


	4. Chapter 4

heya, new chapter. the next one will be up tonight because this was meant to be yesterdays

thank you red lighting, trusting-what-isn't-there and CSigurlie07 for reviewing. hugs n luvs to ya and to anyone reading my story. It should be finshed by the weekendx

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You had been explained to by the nurses that there would be lots of wires and tubes, you mustn't be scared of them and you mustn't touch them because they are helping your Mom get better. You approach her bed slowly, taking in the heart and lung monitors, the IV drip. You watch your mother force herself out of sleep like a swimmer breaking the surface of a heavy viscous sea of molten lead. Her bruised eyelids fluttered and you squeeze a little harder on her icy hand just let her know you were there. Your moist eyes stare at the swollen-faced, bruised-eyed woman. You are reverting back to your childish behaviour. You want to crawl in to the bed beside your mother and be held by her. Though she is not strong enough to hold you or comfort you or even kiss you unless you poke your face close to hers, against her wounded mouth. Outside your mother's room you overhear one nurse asking another "that poor girl, they daughter. They didn't rape her, too, did they?" She looked at you and then at the man who hovered behind you. You look at him and notice how his eyes were moving over Momma's face warily. You watch the Adam's apple bounce as he swallows. The next thing you know a nurse is bringing in Mommy's dinner on a tray, her soft-diet food. The man turns and Momma asks him to stay. He sits down in the chair. Momma lets you help with her meal, though she can feed herself. Apple juice, puréed carrots. And strawberry Jell-o. So delicious, you and Mom plan to make Jell-o all the time when she comes home. You realised that you had eaten your mother's food and she had only pushed some of it around the plate. Your head starts to do a familiar drop and your eyes feel heavy. The way Momma's strokes your hair is done so softly…so softly...

* * *

Grissom seemed quietly entranced as he waited for her to speak. She opened her mouth, began to voice, but the she faltered, searching for words. After a moment, she looked away, while her thoughts processed. There was nothing. She could only remember was looking for the car. She had heard it was a nice park, safe. That's why it would be a special trip. And then explaining what a mermaid was. 

"There's nothing, Grissom, there's nothing there," her was voice weak and pained.

"Please, tell me."

He cleared his throat.

"It's not my place to tell-."

"No, I think it really is. Who is going to tell me if its not you?" It was as if she was looking right through him instead of at him. Her breathing differed from normal, irregular, a short breath in through the nose and a long sigh-like one out of her cracked mouth. "Ecklie?" Another irregular breath followed. "Some stranger who keeps giving me sympathetic looks?" He stole a quick glance at the heart monitor and saw that her pulse was quickly accelerating.

"Sara, you need to calm down." His tone was sharp and he immediately regretted it. "Get your breathing back to normal and I'll tell you." He was frightened. For both of them. He pulled the chair closed to the bed and watched her wheezing pants fade and her heart rate had returned to normal. The nurse opened the door and asked if everything was okay and after two nods, she left.

He closed his hand over hers. He felt her flinch significantly at contact and had pained him slightly. It felt small in his, soft and trembling. He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

"There was an attack at the park," he told her in a deceivingly casual way.

"You were raped." He swallowed hard, struggling to control the flood of emotions.

"Raped?"

"Gang-raped actually." She didn't say anything, only stared at him, her pupils dilating and devoid of any real sign of recognition of what he had said.

"Did they touch her?" He had seen this face before, eyes smouldering, lips sewn together tightly. It was full of scorn, pain and deep sorrow, bubble of poison wanting to burst. Heather had it when she came out of the autopsy room, and he had seen it many times with Catherine.

"No."

She absorbed his one word answer and she pulled her hand out of Grissom's and covered her mouth with her palm and her fingers spread outwards across her cheeks. Her eyes closed for a few long moments and he took a deep breath and pressed her fingers against her eyelids. Eventually she removed her hand mask, collapsing it next to Grissom's.

"Who collected the evidence?"

"Catherine."

A small flush of colour covered Sara's milky cheeks. It was a relief. She couldn't have standed any of her male friends looking…

"She is the lead. She also contacted your mother. Catherine is going to bring her here from the airport."

He looked at Lorena. So did Sara.

"Why don't you ask what you so clearly want to know?"

"Well…" His voice trailed away and Gil's sweaty hands stumbled in to his pocket. He loathed his cell phone. Right then, for a single moment, he loathed it. It was Brass and he could not risk not answering it. The conversation was short and brief. Gil looked at Sara.

"Charges have been made and the bail is set at $ 75,000 for each of the men in custody."

"How many?"

"Eight."

Her eyes flickered. Grissom realised that she must have thought about three or four. Five maximum.

"I think I'd like to sleep for a while."

She shifted her body, trying to turn it away. It hurt her and she was ecstatic that it did Physical pain was so much easier to deal with than emotional. She kept her eyes squeezed shut until she heard the door open and close. The next thing Sars realized was that she was being wheeled away to have a C.A.T scan. Alone.

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x 


	5. Chapter 5

thank you red lighting for reviewing me again and thank you sye04 for reviewing.

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You sat on your own. You can't sleep except when Momma sleeps. You can't smile except when Momma smiles. You have been surrounded by people who knew your mother, who were curing your mother, but all you wanted was your mother. And to go home. Las Vegas isn't your home, San Francisco is. Momma asked you on her last visit if next time you would like to live with her for a while. Go to school for a year in Las Vegas and see what happens. You said "yes, yes," straight away. You miss the steep-sloped streets where Uncle J. taught you to roller-skate. You smile and remember that he was deemed irresponsible; Grandmother had shouted at him, "taking a seven year old girl out skating on Nob Hill, what were you thinking?" You miss your school because now you have to work hard all day to be like other girls. You get picked on too, that's why you had been miserable for weeks, why Momma had taken you to the special park, too cheer you up. If you had pretended to be happy, you wouldn't have gone to the park, Momma wouldn't have been hurt. This was your fault. You looked through the glass hospital window at all the men in with your mother. You had seen most of them at the police station. You never knew your father but you sometimes asked about it. Your Mom told you that he was a nice guy. That she didn't know him very well, that sometimes people can mean a lot to each other for a short time. You think about your last Parent-teacher night, your teacher had told you Mother that you lacked a strong father figure; that you are very self-reliant, very independent which was not always a good thing. Your teacher said it was unhealthy to take on adult roles too early, you knew that Momma knew that too well.

* * *

Warrick, Nick and Brass were questioning Sara. Laura Sidle was still stuck at San Francisco International Airport, her plane was delayed due to bad weather but Sara's brother, Joshua, had managed to get one from Oakland's international. Joshua was a scruffy, slouching, longhaired vision of male perfection, in his 40's, younger than Grissom but older than Warrick. His liquid gold eyes were patient, restful like the eyes in a painting, fixed and reliable. His face was sharply defined, beautiful features and well-moulded checks. His skin was light bronze and hands, a perfect pale gold. The indigo shades concealing the true depth of eyes that absorbed with colours grey and violet easily. His mane, that tousled and curled, was presentably plaited. Impressions are everything and he had never met anyone that belonged to Sara's world of Las Vegas. 

"I think you should hold on to this for a while." J. pulled the handmade necklace over his niece's head. Lorena fingered the uninspiring sparkling crystal and let it drop, her movements full of lacklustre. He shifted her pigtails so they rested in front of her shoulders. He found her to be a very unique girl. He had spent ages trying to convince Lorena she didn't want to play goal keeper. That it was either "boring, boring, boring or oh-my-god, oh-my-god, oh-my-god." There is no getting around her.

"Has your Mom talked to you about what happened?"

She sat forward and dropped her elbows to small knees.

"No, she hasn't talked to me much," Lorena mumbled.

"You should never have to worry about anything more serious than baseball."

"I didn't ask for any of this," words dropped lifelessly out of her mouth, "I just want to be a little girl."

Joshua stood up and moved into Sara's room.

Lorena strained to hear but she picked up certain things from his diplomatic voice.

"Excuse…long…to be…? Your daughter…to talk...do remember you have a daughter?"

He returned and seated himself again, in one gracefully, lean moment next to Lorena. His lips curled in to another opulent smile. "They are just going to ask her a few more questions and then you can go in. Why don't you go tidy yourself up a bit?"

Lorena sighed loudly and hung her head.

* * *

"Hi Mom." 

Sara looked up to see her tiny brunette meeklyhovering at the door. Sara groaned and sat up, smiling at the girl who yawned deeply.

"Are you tired, baby?"

"A little."

Sara pattered the bed and Lorena walked slowly and gently sat herself upon the hard mattress. Sara took a deep breath. She took Lorena's hand and squeezed it hard. She could feel her blood thundering in her fingertips. To Sara's surprise Lorena's tiny fingers entwined with her other hand.

"I think you have gotten bigger since I last saw you."

"I have?" Lorena looked at her body, she didn't feel any bigger.

"Yeah."

There was a strange, abnormal silence between mother and daughter, it had never been there before.

"Have you met my friends from work?"

"I think so, Catherine is very pretty."

"Who did you meet first?"

"I don't know his name. He wearsglasses and has weird coloured hair.He doesn't talk much. Is he your boyfriend?"

Sara's face had gone from smiling at her descriptions to experiancing shock.She asked her daughter why she thought that.

"He held your hand when you first came in to hospital," Lorena grinned mischievously

"And he kissed you when you were sleeping. He said he hoped it would wake you up because you are a princess." Lorena had said everything so innocently, her eyes often catching with her mother's big brown eyes.

"And it did."

Sara was stunned. There was no other way to describe how she felt.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Is it my fault you are hurt?"

"No, baby, not at all. Don't you ever think that, Lorenna. It's just sometimes bad things happen…and…" Sara had been trying tothink of a wayoftrying to get her daughter to understand without making her upset and ruining her childhood purity. "You know how Grandma had hurt Grandfather in order for him to stop hurting her?" Lorena had been told that story two years ago, when she was five and asking about her grandfather.

"Are you going to be sent away?" Her eyes looked likethey were melting because the oftearsofdespair were too acidic.

"No... but lots of people hurt me very badly and now…" Sara realised she couldn't explain it, not all of. How could she explain something she didn't even understand.

Sara gently put her arms around her and pulled her daughter softly towards her torso and lay back slowly on to her propped up pillow. It hurt Sara so much; it felt like her entire body was contracting and convulsing with pain. But Lorena felt safe for the first time since the attack in the protective harbour of her mother's arms. Although Sara a bruised in different shades of yellow and purple, to Lorena she still seemed soft, and she still smelled like macaroni and cheese.

"Sometimes…the world can seem a very nasty, mean place. But believe me there is more goodness in it than bad. There are more princes than monsters. You have to promise me that you will remember that, Lorena, my sweet brave Lorena." Sara's eyes leaked out brittle tears, frigid like diamonds as she pulled the little girl closer.

"Promise, Mommy, I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

heya, hope you all had a good weekend. Sorry I haven;t updated sooner but my art exam/coursework is in for this friday (eeeek) so i have been doing that ... thank you to LadyJess and Tashira Ronin for reviewing. Also lorena's bit is really long...sorry

thanks for reading

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You had been back at school for ten days now. You hated it. The other students looked at you and every lesson you had on the first Monday back, all teachers asked you to stay behind, telling you, in the same sickly sweet voice the Child Services woman had spoken in, if you ever need to talk, they promised you the strictest confidence, but you knew they wouldn't keep their promise. They had noticed you drifting off in daydreams.

You kept thinking about Momma. She had come home before the weekend. On Saturday night, whilst you were reading under the covers with the torchlight, you heard your mother let out a frightening scream. You had run out and there was green and clear glass exploded on the wooden floor. Red liquid was splattered everywhere, it was far too purple in colour for it to be blood. You noticed how Grandmother's soft hair had loosened from its ponytail. She was trying to comfort Mother but she kept pushing her away. When Momma noticed you hovering in the bedroom doorway, she shouted at you, telling you to get to bed, that you shouldn't be up. Her finger was in a sharp point. You had scurried and buried yourself deep under the quilt, hand closed over your ears as there was shouting, which ended with a slam of a door. You heard the sweeping up of the glass and the loud clash as it was emptied in to the bin. Grandmother came in, thinking you were asleep. She dried your tears and patted down your hair. You were told that Momma could remember what happened to her, that something had startled her. You were told that Momma had gone out to see a friend and you were worried, what if it happened to her again. Grandmother assured you she took something to protect herself. You didn't realise it was her gun. You hear the bell ring and it makes you jump. You collect your things and make your way to the sports department. A lesson with Karen and Isobel and Trinny, and since it was raining heavily, there would be dodge balls. Brilliant. Why did every Wednesday rain?

You are late, you dawdled but the teacher tells you its okay. You go to your usual spot where you get changed and the other girls', the ones that had pretty perfect blonde hair and white wonder-bread sandwiches, shuffle discreetly away from you. You roll your eyes and look behind you, watching your back as your Uncle J. calls it. Karen is pulling her hair back, whilst Isobel and Trinny give you sad smiles as they lace up their pink and white sport shoes. You never mixed with them and had given them no reason for them to push you and tip the objects out of your bag on to the floor. On bad days, things would get stamped on. As usual, you are the last to be picked. Hell, you wouldn't pick you, the scrawny, thin girl with the weird accent and ability to throw a ball. You play ball and notice four boys and a large girl watch you. None of them are from your grade; they were between the ages of ten to thirteen. You get hit with the ball, it slams in to your side, wind escapes and the teacher shouts your surname. You sit on the bench. Half time is called and the teacher steps out of the sports hall. Half of the class file out to go to the toilet or to re-hydrate. You stay firmly on the bench.

The group come over, tell you to stand up. You do it obediently. One of the older boys grabs your shirt, he lifts you off the ground, and you are tiptoeing like the girls that did ballet.

You had tried ballet in San Francisco and found more amusement in playing ballet rather than performing. You thought the Jazz class was amazing and when you saw the teenagers jive and shimmer to hip-hop you knew you wanted to dance like them.

"We know the lies you and your Mom have been spreading about our families. Don't even think about telling the police what happened otherwise my cousin will make sure what happened to your Mom happens to you."

"Y-y-you don't scare me." You mentally kick yourself when you realised you stuttered. You saw them sneer and he drops you.

"Then our brothers will rape your mother again, if that's what it takes to keep your fat mouth shut." That was the other boy. He looked like one of the men you had identified. William Stevenson. You look at them, eyes wincing, shaking your head. There was that word again. Rape.

"What to do mean?"

The girl leans forward, her weight pressing in to you. She whispers in your ear. Your eyes widen at her words. You knew what 'sex' was and you understood everything else. You deny that it's truth.

"Oh it's the truth, Sidle."

"That bitch deserved it." You look at the Mason brother and feel yourself tense.

"My Mom is not a bitch," it's your first 'naughty word' and turned your tongue rotten. You thought it would give you strength, make you feel grown-up. It didn't.

The Robert's brother, Daniel you think his name is, smiled at you.

"She did had it coming to her."

That was it.

What had happened at the park, your mother's avoidance you, the bullying, the sympathetic looks rushed through your mind and exploded within you. All fear drained out of you and adrenalin was pumped in.

You went for him.

You pull at his flaxen hair, embedded your claws in to his face and dragged them down repeatedly. He spat in your flowing brown hair. You spat at him back, although not very well as some of it still hung on your lips. Still some of it went in to his eyes. You heard the other students chant the word 'fight' over and over. You couldn't stop. You had never known anything like what you felt. It was passion. Hate and rage and love meshed together in a beautiful poisonous bubble. You were on top of him and he had hit you several times, but it didn't hurt, you didn't feel anything. Your own blood was dripping on to his repulsive yellow t-shirt, staining it. You didn't know where it was coming from and didn't care. Your nails were now trying to peel or rip off his ears. He was begging you to stop and it just reminded you of what happened to Momma, of her begging and pleading. Screaming. It just made you dig your nails in hard. You tried to imitate a move your mother had done at the park but missed your target, hit his leg. You feel the teacher dragging you off him and by then your salty tears and sweat are streaming down your face, as well as your blood.

* * *

"You might wanna rethink that theory of a violent gene, Grissom." Sara and Gil walked down the school corridor to the principal's office. Sara was dressed as if she was going to court. She wore a black pinstripe suit that covered all of her bruises cuts. Her make-up and hair managed to cover up any on her neck and face. She still walked with a slight limp.

"Thanks for coming." Sara said it so casually; she could have been asking him to pass her a swab. She looked at Grissom, right in to his blue eyes and he nodded.

"No, I mean it…Thank you…" The night she had found out the details, she went straight to his house and didn't stop knocking. He hadn't been sleeping and they talked until the sun came up. He nodded again and gestured to the door. Sara knocked on the door and they entered. The first thing Sara's eyes flickered for was her daughter. Lorena was sat dishevelled and her hair was falling to her face. She was playing with the necklace Joshua gave her, the rope chain wrapping itself around her tiny fingers. Sara greeted Mrs Susannah Elliot and introduced her to Dr. Gil Grissom.

"Miss Sidle, I know that what happened to you and your daughter, it must be very stressful and although Lorena was provoked, I will not tolerate violence in my school."

"I expected that there would be some conflict as some of the suspects family attend here, but…" The woman struggled for words, Sara's pensive face hadn't twitched and she kept her focus on Mrs Elliot.

"This degree of violence. Daniel Roberts's nose was broken by Lorena."  
Sara's head snapped as if a string was yanked. She looked at Lorena. Sara didn't speak but Lorena's arms tightened around her waist. Daniel had kicked her in the stomach and the adrenalin had worn off.

"You broke his nose?" Sara let out a quick shot of breath and looked back at Mrs Elliot.

"Lorena is a bright student, top grades and until recently has had a good relationship with both students and teachers."

Lorena snorted.

"But…" The principal continued, "Action will have to be taken."

"What about the other boy? The group the group that provoked her? What action," Grissom flinched when Sara spat out the word, emphasising the 'Act' part so it came out more like 'ack' and it was pure Californian.

"…Will be taken against them?"

"Well, Lorena did hit him first."

"I don't believe this." Sara moved her head side-to-side and her fingers on her right hand rubbed her forehead.

"Daniel will receive a week's worth a detention, Miss Sidle, but I have no choice temporarily suspend Lorena. She can come back on Monday. And this can all be put behind us."

Sara picked up her purse and stood up.

"Yeah, well, if my child doesn't feel safe in this school," Sara's hand shot out and Lorena gracefully snatched and stood up.

"I don't think she'll be coming back." Sara gave a fierce and sarcastic smile.

Gil stood up at this point as Sara flung the door back open and yanked her daughter through the door.

He smiled, and offered his hand to Mrs Elliot. She shook it.

"Parent to parent, I hope you and Miss Sidle understand why I had to suspend your daughter." Gil felt the sentence drift through his mind until it settled.

"Lorena is an intelligent and wonderful little girl, but I had no other option."

"I understand, thank you." He understood. He knew Sara wouldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

heya new chapter...sorry there hasn;t been one for a while. next chapter will be up tommorrow. for def. It's half written. Thank you for reading and for any reviews

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You were caught in the middle of an argument. You had learnt from an early age that your family knew exactly which buttons to press. For grandmother it was Grandfather, for Uncle J it was his drug habit and for Momma it was you. It was a question of how much blood you would shed to stay alive. No one ever won the arguments, just made each other hurt. You kept piping in, wanting your say but kept getting told to be quiet. They were discussing you, you wanted to be involved. You felt embarrassed. You made your way to the kitchen area; you wanted a glass of milk. You couldn't reach the top shelf where the glasses were kept. You gave up. You listened to them argue a little while longer. Your mother firmly said you were going back to San Francisco to which your Grandmother retaliated with something like 'She should be with her mother.' Momma glares at Grandmother. She had been drinking more and more since bail was granted for two of the men. The youngest one had confessed to his involvement. You couldn't stand it…again. No one had dared talked to you since your outburst. You had been asked if you wanted to talk to a "special teacher" about what had happened to you and your mother. When your mother picked you up from the first meeting, you told her it sucked and she laughed, told you she knew they did. She went on to tell you how proud she was of you that you had defended her to kids bigger and stronger than you. But you should never do it again. She had started singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…"

* * *

Catherine, Warrick and Greg stood outside the courtroom doors. They were an hour early.

"You look good in purple." Catherine fiddled with Warrick's lilac tie and patted down softly and it dramatically contrasted with the amethyst shirt. She smiled sadly. It was a turning point for Warrick. That was it. Something he had never understood before. Her voice is full of love- that was the charm that rose and fell in her voice; it was the jingle of it, the cymbals' song of it. She was the golden girl in a high white palace.

"Thanks. You look good in…" He looked at her, properly, as if a soft mist that had been blocking the true vision of her was lifted.

"You just look good."

The soft moment passed as seven hard cruel bodies passed Catherine, Warrick and Nick, who had just exited the bathroom and the stared with hatred at them. They were part of a crowd of men walked, a mixture of Police officers and Lawyers. Seven men looked at them, the eighth was giving his statement via video link since he was the youngest and had already confessed. The beasts looked at them with shining, arrogant bead-eyes, and leaned aggressively forward in their stride. They couldn't hide the enormous power of their bodies. The last one to enter winked at Catherine and made a kiss face with his hard and sturdy mouth. Catherine's eyes widened and Warrick automatically hated his guts.

Greg soon arrived, followed by Grissom. They sat in silence, feeling the weight that they would be dealing with the people who violated Sara in front of her own child. Nick began talking, he was slightly furious with Sara. He thought they trusted each other.

"Grissom, what do think about Sara stashing a kid away for six…?"

Nick looked up to Warrick for confirmation. Warrick nodded.

"Six years and just not telling us? I mean, how does she cope?"

Gil paused, thinking about his answer.

"Like any parent I suppose. Sara has to balance an extraordinary life with single parenthood. She loves the child, obviously… unquestionably… but she also loved the life she had and I think that she finds it difficult to balance two as she excels in both her ability as CSI and as a parent, Nick."

Greg and Gil saw the defendants and neither of them could believe the difference from the mug shots. All were clean-shaven. They were neatly dressed in suits, shirts, neckties and polished shoes. They had had haircuts. The courtroom doors opened again and the CSI's turned to see Caroline Ellenson, a top feminist lawyer, Sara Sidle and Lorena Sidle. Sara was wearing a black outfit, something she often wore to court and a white silk blouse beneath. Her expression was dazed and vague and she stumped once or twice in her low-heeled shoes. Her lawyer caught her arm. Sara leaned in to her daughter and Lorena looked much, much older than Nick or Catherine could ever recall. Sara seemed to take no evident notice of the numerous men who were staring at her with undisguised hatred. She also took no notice of the middle-aged women and the young pretty girl who mouthed just audible words in Sara's direction: "Bitch! Liar! Whore!"

Bailiffs advanced upon the girl, threatening her with expulsion. The family members try to calm her, but angrily she shook off a restraining arm and cursed the bailiffs in a fierce tone and in the same moment she was helped to her feet and urged out in to the aisle. Another young woman followed her and shouted, "They didn't do it! You got the wrong guys! This a set-up! The Gestapo!"

Nick whispered, "Jesus, this isn't even a trial."

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	8. Chapter 8

Next chapter...yay! next one will be up tommorrow. Thanks larkinross for reviewing xand thanks to anyone who checks out the story x

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You felt your mother squeeze your hand and her lawyer took hold of your other hand. It was unexpected and you turned you face to look at hers. You knew she was earnest and righteous and wore a grey suit. Her hair was tied in a sleek and twisted bun and she had an upstate and snobbish accent. She smiled but you looked at your mother who was tight lipped and wore her dark glasses covering her beautiful eyes that you wished you had inherited instead of being cursed with topaz blues. Everything seemed so calm, you did not expect that on the evening news, it would be reported that the "atmosphere quickly became too unruly for the judge to control."

"All rise."

The judge entered the courtroom. He was breathing quickly, as if he had been running. He was flush-faced as he had been informed of the commotion in his courtroom, but he didn't acknowledge it. John Fitzgerald was the name of the Judge, in his mid-fifties and wire-rimmed glasses. He was a politician, canny. He knew the volatile nature of the case he was assigned to adjudicate and he would make no mistakes if he could avoid them.

* * *

It was Caroline Ellenson's turn to speak and she argued that it was an especially vicious sexual assault.

"It was an attack against a woman in the presence of her seven-year-old daughter who was terrified and hiding." Ellenson's eyes focused on the Judge, posture stiff and formal.

"It was a pro-longed attack, lasting nearly half an hour. It had been a premeditated attack, for the defendants had stalked Miss Sidle and her child in the park for an estimated 10 minutes, according to the testimony of the state's witness."

Ellenson kept her hands firmly by her side.

"It had been an attack intended to result in the death of Sara Sidle, who had been left to bleed to death, unconscious on a pathway in the secluded area of a children's park."

Sara breathed deeply and her head flickered to the defendants.

"If Miss Sidle's daughter, Lorena Sidle," she indicated Lorena with an upturned palm, "had not been present at time of this violation against her Mother, Sara Sidle would not be alive today to confront and give testimony against her attackers. As it was, Miss Sidle suffered critical physical injuries, had been on a life support machine at Desert Palms Hospital and hospitalised for over two weeks and at the present time is still recuperating from the attack."

Ellenson took a deep breath; it was her closing point.

"Your Honour, Miss Sidle's presence in the courtroom today is something of a miracle."

Catherine smiled, nodding her head slightly. _Damn, she is good. _

Greg had been watching Sara. _It must be hell to hear yourself talked of like that; gang rape, bleed to death, left to die._ This was so ugly. Greg hoped to heaven and hell that the prosecution could strike plea bargains with those dogs so a trial could be avoided. They could not seriously expect Lorena Sidle to testify in a court of law. To endure cross-examinations from defence lawyers that would prey on her like jackals. Lorena's head turned and saw her looking towards him with dark and startled eyes. Greg wondered if she would remember him.

The hearing proceeded with numerous interruptions from either side. Dr. Gilbert Grissom, Nicholas Stokes and Catherine Willows had both sworn so far and had done their brief testimonies, reciting the facts, the involvement at the crime scene. Regarding DNA and forensic evidence, there was a good deal of it. But because of limited eyewitness testimonies, the case was circumstantial. Each of the defendants had presented an individual problem. Only one of the men had confessed and he had confessed only to assault, not aggravated assault and not rape, though he had named the others in the rape, sparing himself. Lawyers for the defendants were challenging his testimony, claiming that he lied in exchanged for lesser charges.

"Miss Sidle. It is not bright sunshine in here, you can remove your dark glasses." Fitzgerald spoke politely but with an air of impatience. The dark glasses annoyed him. Sara fumbled with her glasses and dropped them on the floor creating a loud clatter and sniggers from the defendants. Ellenson stooped to retrieve them and explained to Fitzgerald that since her injuries, Miss Sidle's eyes were particularly sensitive to light. Fitzgerald expressed a little sympathy saying that Miss Sidle could partially close her eyes. Ellenson asked if she could positively identify the three rapists that Sara had only been able to identify when she in the hospital bed. Sara at first could not reply and she hid her face in her hands and she wiped at her eyes, Sara murmured yes. She was then asked to point them out and she hesitated for a long moment. With her shaking hand she pointed out Sean Mason, Dean Roberts and Richard Delucca. She realised her mistake, she had picked out Philip DeLucca not Dean Roberts when identifying who she could remember at P.D. This was because the defendant's lawyers had advised them to dress similar, look as much as each other as possible, similar suits and haircuts. There was an immediate buzz of indignation from the spectators, but Sara could not stammer out the words to rectify it.

Lorena Sidle spoke more clearly, though Warrick could see that she was trembling. Lorena kept her focus on Ellenson, afraid to look elsewhere. From time to time, Fitzgerald would ask her to speak louder. He was not sarcastic with her; he did not wish to appear unsympathetic with a child victim.

The defendant's lawyer, Truman Atkinson, used a simple and basic defence: there had been no rape. No rape! None! There had been sex. Multiple acts of sex but it had been consensual. But then Miss Sidle had wanted payment and when they refused to pay her, the alleged victim became verbally and physically aggressive towards the men. The men admittedly had been taking substances and had fought back when she attacked them. They had not hurt her seriously and had left her and another group of unidentified young men, who had been in the same area of the attack, must have been the cause of the rape and severe beatings.

Greg, Nick, Warrick and Gil were not violent men. Nick and Warrick had had violent outbursts when something affected them deeply. Gil considered himself to be cool and rational and it seemed that Greg had never felt deep anger. Today changed them. They had hated the men who hurt and raped Sara but each of them felt the need to something violent to Atkinson.

"As for Miss Sidle's daughter who allegedly hid in the public bathroom at the time of her mother's sexual encounter-My clients and their companions were entirely unaware of her presence. They certainly had no knowledge of a seven-year-old girl! In her testimony she admits that she did not actively see any acts of rape, only just believed that she heard them."

Atkinson smiled, he was known for his strong and serpentine arguments.

He called Lorena "a confused, frightened child and a victim of her mother's negligence."

At that time, each of the male CSI's had cursed words running through their heads.

He referred to a time Lorena had been taken to hospital because she was concussed.

Atkinson then went on to comment on Sara being the daughter of an abusive father and woman who murdered her husband. If Sara could muster the energy to blush, she would have turned a deep red. However, Ellenson interrupted, but Atkinson was aloud to continue.

Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Greg looked shocked but Grissom didn't flinch. Catherine looked at Gil who sat beside her. Their dark blues met and Catherine knew that he knew about Sara's past before today.

"The girl is a victim, yes: a victim of her mother's outrageous negligence. She was confused at the time of the alleged rape and may have been purposely mislead by Miss Sidle at a later time. Her testimony, like her mother's, is fabricated and misleading. As the evidence and my client's testimonies will show-."

There was an air of shock in the courtroom, delayed shock but still, it came out as a loud boom. From the rows of spectators, exclamations and scattered applauses happened. Fitzgerald was taken by surprise and struck his gavel for a few seconds as things began to swerve out of hand. "Quiet! Quiet or I will clear out my courtroom."

Sara Sidle was protesting incredulously and Ellenson tried to calm her. There were raised voices from the spectators in the front rows; some sympathetic; others were hostile; some were gloating. Some people were on their feet. Catherine Warrick and Greg filed out of the courtroom, Catherine half in tears. Nick and Gil stayed watching events unfold. Ellenson and another deputy prosecutor were helping Sara as if she had begun to fall. Bailiffs and guards charged forward. Laughter, curses, insults and spit flew at Sara and around at the courtroom. One bullet of mucus and salvia hit her on the cheek and it dripped down her cheek. Fitzgerald was forced to clear his courtroom. His words were unheard.

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thanks you x 


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to LarkinRoss...again...thank youxxxxxx and thanks SGBS4L xxxxxx

Next chapter up tomorrow

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You realised it was the end for your mother, for Sara Sidle. She could not bear it and she would never testify now and she swore that she would never re-enter any courtroom. She quit her job, worked her two months notice but only stayed in the lab. She lost her faith in the courtroom, the prosecutors, and judges. Momma had been hospitalised again that day as she had collapsed from shock and exhaustion. She was diagnosed anaemic and depressed. She was put on to a regimen of anti-depressant medication, which after a few weeks, she refused to take. Actually you knew that wasn't fully true, sometimes you had seen her take too many, to make herself sick. Momma had begun seeing rape councillors and psychotherapists but it soon ceased. She refused to see anyone, her friends, and her former boss and often she would refuse to see you, "leave me alone, for Christ's sake. I am sick and tired. I can't give a damn about you…they should have just finished the job…God, help me…God…give me peace…" Grandmother now permanently lived with you and had tried her best to give you a decent birthday celebration but your party consisted of adults who once knew a woman call Sara Sidle, which looked like the pathetic and broken woman hiding upstairs.

* * *

It was the seventh of September when Warrick Brown killed one of the rapists with two shots from his standard police service revolver. Grissom had told Sara and she had gone to see Warrick straight away. Lorena saw it on the news and in a Las Vegas newspaper. 

"DeLucca, Philip. "Pip." Twenty-four, unemployed at the time of his death." There was also a photo of him on the television screen, a photo of him doped up and greased up in a glittering manor. Some girl would think he was sexy, an overgrown kid. Lorena and Laura watched the television in the living room, the curtains drawn.

"Well, that's the first of them, babygirl."

Lorena looked at her Grandmother and then her head swerved back to the screen.Lorena understood what she had said but refused to thinkabout it.The photo didn't show him like he had looked in the courthouse in a neatly pressed suit and tie and combed hair but more the way he had looked at the park, whooping and yelping.

"Grandmother, why would he fire two shots? One would have been fatal enough."

She shrugged but it was explained by the reporter that LVPD are required to fire two shots, it was the training.

* * *

It was DeLucca who had first sighted and recognised Nick Stokes parking his SUV outside the restaurant that Greg insisted they attended because of tradition. 

Philip DeLucca was with Dean Roberts, drinking at the bar of the restaurant.

"Are you following me asshole?" DeLucca had asked and Nick who blanked him not seeming to know who he was and he went to sit with Greg.

Greg left went home after his food but Nick went in to an all-night grocery store that was situated just across the road. Nick couldn't an offer an explanation why he chose to go in that store.

It just was.

He was waiting for CSI Warrick Brown to arrive. When Nick was about to leave the store, a sales assistant realised that he paused and hovered in the doorway, unsure of leaving. After being probed by the attractive sales assistant to leave because he was blocking an exit, Nick had left and that was when DeLucca had jumped him. Was it possible that Nick and DeLucca were aware of each other without so much as seeing each other, as if they were a past of different species and natural enemies? CSI Gregory Sanders commented that he did recognise the men at the bar and possibly Nick Stokes had been aware of each other. Guys hating each other's guts, there had been an incident at the courthouse.

It had been a coincidence that Nick had left the store almost immediately after Philip DeLucca. It certainly wasn't rehearsed. It was instinct.

"He just came at me unprovoked, drunk and saying he was going to kill me."

Approximately at 11:23pm CSI Warrick Brown arrived and witnessed two men shouting and he understood that this was a fight that he would break it up. His instinct was to move in the direction of any disturbance of the peace, to intercede. As Warrick came closer he saw that Nick had fallen and DeLucca was kicking him in the groin area. From his jacket pocket DeLucca drew a weapon: a switchblade and Warrick had estimated its length was between six and eight inches.

Immediately Warrick had called out, identifying himself and he instructed the aggressor to throw down his knife and to keep his hands where Brown could see them. DeLucca made an obscene gesture at Warrick with the switchblade and told him to keep the hell away. Warrick had continued to advance, now drawing his weapon. He looked at the man on the floor.

"Sir, Sir, can you move?"

Nick looked up at Warrick as if to say, "Hey Warrick, you're late." It was clear to DeLucca that both Brown and Stokes would testify, that DeLucca saw Brown's weapon and heard his instructions. Brown ordered DeLucca to drop the knife. Brown ordered DeLucca to step away from Nick. Instead DeLucca lunged forward swiping at Warrick and Warrick fired two shots in the area of the aggressor's heart, from a distance of less than three inches. DeLucca had stumbled backward at once, dying. It was over within seconds and both of them sighed deeply with relief. Warrick shouted asking for an ambulence and he checked the pulse of DeLucca. There wasn't one.

Warrick helped Nick up; making sure Nick wasn't seriously injured, asking him why he was always the one who got in to trouble. Warrick was joking about it, he even laughed as he pushed out the air and made a message over his radio. It felt wrong to Nick. The situation wasn't funny; it was serious.

"Warrick, man…you just saved my life."

Warrick laughed again, his eyes looked at as though emeralds had been dunked in tears.

"Yeah, I guess I did…"

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x 


	10. Chapter 10

Only two chapters to go...

Thank you dark-girl-faith-sidle for reviewing, and thank -LarkinRoss... its always good to have a story whore, lol...glad you still love it.

Btw I didn't know what a traditional thankgiving meal was so I just found somethings on the net... so sorry if it is wrong.

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You ran a mental list of the 8 men involved in the attack. Sean Mason, he was the one who had confessed to assault but not rape; Philip DeLucca, he was dead; Richard DeLucca the brother of the dead one; Gary Stevenson he was the one that had shouted in the court "She said she'd suck us of for 10 bucks each and since there was eight of us, we'd get a discount"; Dean Roberts; William Amos; Paul Greensmith, the cousin of Dean Roberts; James Harlow, he had been abusive and violent towards his wife and had met Sean Mason in jail, both of them in for assault against a woman. It was mid October and your Mother, who was slowly getting better and promising you the best Christmas ever, sat you down at the kitchen table. She told you gently that Gary Stevenson and Dean Roberts, the two prime defendants had vanished. You were told that their lawyer, Atkinson, was negotiating a remarkable plea bargain with prosecutors for his clients in which any charges of rape were to be dropped and "aggravated assault" would be lowered to "assault" and the next day, the two best friends had vanished.

The two best friends, you were told, had jumped bail, mostly likely to be never seen or heard from again but the joined the 'Most Wanted' list in Nevada, Clark County. You had heard that they had been talking about going to Canada, crossing the boarders, making their way northwest where it was said young and able-bodied men like them could find jobs in lumbering, fishery canning and salmon fishing. Good wages, too. Your mother stroked you hair. It had been cut recently and it hung just over your shoulders. Your mother smiled at you. She seemed to know that whether living (in Canada?) or dead (in the choppy waters of Niagara?) neither Gary Stevenson nor Dean Roberts would ever harm her again.

* * *

Christmas was approaching fast, likedoes to all children,and although Lorena didn't believe in Santa Clause anymore, she still believed that there was a magic to be found. Lorena had been repeatedly offered by adults the chance to change school but she thought it was more trouble than it was worth, and Lorena, using a logical that felt only logical to her, thought that if she could survive through the incident at the park and school, she could beat the world. 

Lorena walked down the crowded corridors of the school, feeling the eyes move over her. Although she had desperately wanted to be in the Thanksgiving Concert, she was picked to be Native American no. 9 and she had basically told her to stuff it. There were classmates who were related to the rapists or who were friends or neighbours. There were classmates who were sympathetic with the rapists, the guys, because they had heard nasty things about Lorena and Sara.

_Nobody likes a rat. Nobody likes a rat._

That was Lorena's newest nickname: rat…or the deviation from that: Loratta. What Lorena had done was rat to the cops, ratting to the DA and nobody likes a rat.

She entered fearfully in to a lavatory. The girls inside were the oldest and the meanest. You locked yourself him, double-checking the lock. You heard whispers and the door close. When you opened the door, on the mirror in pink lipstick scrawls

'HATE L.S' 'FUCK L.SIDLE'

Lorena had learned to quickly avert her eyes. Sometimes the words were even more ugly, particularly on her locker, words and drawings in spray paint. The school custodians could not remove these easily.

'L.S SUX CX' 'FUK L.S'

There were also clumsy cartoon drawings intending to symbolise, Lorena guessed, the female sex organs. Lorena had tried to lessen the dramatic impact of these by scratching at them with her fingernails until they became meaningless or even benign symbols, like lopsided suns or moons. The girls who had lockers on either side of you pretended not to see. Not the graffiti and not Lorena.

* * *

"Hey." The husky and sad female voice hit his eardrums. Gil was slightly surprised when he opened the door to find Sara and Lorena on his doorstep. He didn't say anything. He just absorbed the vision of Sara. Her brown amber waves flowed and she wore a plain and casual white dress with thin spaghetti straps. She also wore large sunglass that covered her eye sockets completely. 

"I…erm…I changed my mind. If that's okay." Two weeks ago, Gil and Nick had asked her if she wanted to come for a Thanksgiving dinner at Grissom's house, but she had declined automatically, not properly considering it.

"It's fine. It's good to see you, Sara." Gil felt paralysed with happiness and Sara did too. It would be the first time that the circle of friends would be in the same room together.

"Hello Lorena."

The girl casually lifted her hand and dropped it down, not saying anything. There had actually been something inside her locker today. Gil told her she looked very pretty, she too was in a beautiful snow-white dress but she wore a denim jacket to keep her small arms warm. White socks and patent-leather shoes too. But Lorena shrugged his words off, just as easily as she shrugged off her sprit of innocence and grace. Lorena knew that her mother had wanted her to be so desperately happy, she wanted today be one bright day in her months of darkness. Sara had boughther aspecial dress,one that Lorena had seen in a shop window. It would have made other girls special but it felt like rags on Lorena, which in turn made her feel guilty and ungrateful.

Sara told Lorena to go outside. Look at the flowers or something. If that was okay with Grissom, though he didn't have any flowers, just green blades of grass and a deck area, where a table with candles and a plastic pumpkin decorating it stood. Sara stayed in the living room, staring lazily at her surroundings.

"Do you want something to drink?" Gil called from the kitchen.

"Water, please." Grissom unconsciously watched the splattering, burbling and dancing of the water as it flowed in to a glass.

Gil walked back in to his lounge area. The windows were ajar and the walls were gleaming white and a breeze blew through the house, blowing the curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up towards the ceiling like a white frosted wedding cake. The only stationary object in the room was the couch in which Sara buoyed up as though she was a on an anchored balloon. Her dress was rippling and fluttering as if she had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house.

Gil and Sara looked at each other, listening to the whip and snap of the curtains. One of the windows snapped shut with a loud boom and the wind died and Sara seem to balloon slowly to the ground. She was completely motionless and her chin was raised as if she was balancing something on the end of it. Sara's face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and bright lips.

"How is she handling everything?" He passed her the glass and she held between her palms.

"She's fine. She is handling everything beautifully. She handles difficult things so much easier than me..." Sara smirked a little and her eyes moved up to Gil's face and because of his expression, Sara knew that there was no point in lying to him.

"She hates it…she hates me. Her moods and grades are so bad at the moment."

Sara swallowed and her eyes drifted around the room.

"I caught her cutting up her dolls and dresses at the weekend."

* * *

It was fully dark now and the candles twinkled hilariously. There were no clouds in the sky, the wind had blown them away and had left a bright and sliver peppered starry night sky. A fragmented moon hung somewhere above the trees. Lorena was asleep in her chair, hair tickling her nose that kept making her rub it. She wasn't tossing as she had started doing; half sick by being torn between grotesque reality and savage frightening dreams. 

"I could not eat another thing." Warrick stretched out his arms, as if invisible ropes were pulling them.

Greg, who was slightly slumping forward, his head propped up with his elbow, said leisurely, "I think I am going to puke."

"Thanks for that Greg," and Sara blew him a sarcastic smile.

Gil looked at Catherine and complimented her on her skills; the turkey had been rather splendid.

"Oh, it was yummy, alright." Catherine reached for her glass.

"Yeah, good work, Cath."

"Wasn't exactly a perfect Thanksgiving," Greg sighed, and when he realised everyone was looking at him, he indicated to his empty plate and said simply, "No Waldorf salad."

"I don't know. Seemed kinda right to me. A bit of fun, a big meal, and now we're all tired."

There was a long moment of silence and Nick decided to add a quick quirk.

"And we did all survive Warrick's cooking."

They all burst in to a soft murmuring laugh. Warrick's contribution to the meal had been less than edible. By definition, it would not have been classed as food.

"I guess that much is true. First thanksgiving on together…I've had worse days…"

Another soft and happy silence drifted over the table.

"Hey Nick," Warrick, smiled. Payback time.

"Where did you say you bought that pecan pie again?"

Catherine gasped half in disbelief and everyone looked at Nick.

"Nick!" Sara protested and gently pushed at his shoulder.

"You bought it?"

"Hey, a lot of effort went in to selecting that pie." He put his hands up in a playful defence.

"No doubt," Gil said with a beautiful coolness.

"Maybe we started a new tradition this year."

Everyone looked at Greg, eyebrows raised tightly.

"Maybe not. But at least we all worked together.It was like old times."

* * *

Thanks for reading xxxx 


	11. Chapter 11

Hiya again... thank you again to Larkinross and ladyjess for reviewing

x

* * *

You woke up in a strange room. It was the morning after Thanksgiving. Your eyes squinted at the clock on the bedside table; it was only half past 6 in the morning. You noticed the warmth emanating around you. You looked behind you to see your mother's sleeping face. When you tried to move off the bed but more warmth around your stomach prevented you. You looked down carefully and saw your mother's pale hand entwined with a tanned and masculine one. You drifted back to your dream world. It would be a dream you would treasure for eternity. You believed you were on your way to the beach, a beach bathed in a golden son and miles of deep blue sea, the place of your dream of dreams.

* * *

Grandmother picked you up from school that day and you saw him. Richard DeLucca and his eyes you saw it; a tawny yellow gleam. Seeing Richard DeLucca seeing you. On the street. Staring at you, face tight as if his skin had shrunk and he looked younger and thinner. Since the disappearance of Gary Stevenson and Dean Roberts, Richard DeLucca and James Harlow were the only remaining defendants who had not changed their plea to 'guilty.' The others were negotiating deals with their prosecutors but since Harlow and DeLucca were still pleading 'not guilty', there would be a trial.

DeLucca was walking with another guy. Both of them wearing reversed baseball caps, t-shirts and jeans. DeLucca's yellow eyes moving on you, his face tight with anger. He was forbidden to approach you. He was forbidden to speak with you. Yet it was unmistakably, the message he sent to you. For some reason, when being interviewed by the police and the social services woman, you had been unable to explain how you had gotten from your mother's side to the public bathroom. You hadn't realised you had stopped moving until your Grandmother pulled at your hand.

It was like a flicker film being played in your head only you could feel things. You saw DeLucca taking a huge interest in you, not your mother. He had begun to lift up your dress, telling you he was a doctor and that he needed to examine you. You remember a smothering feeling and screaming, lots of screaming. You remembered then him falling in to and someone shouting "GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER, YOU SICK BASTARD. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!" A fight started between them and you remember a heaving and jerking sensation. That's how you got there, you were dragged and you were strangled because you were being pulled by your dress. You were shoved in the toilet and so sure it was DeLucca. It was William Amos and whispered to you fast, "Listen stay here and be a good girl and you won't get hurt okay. And don't come out until there is no more shouting. I am really sorry…I didn't want it to be like this."

In a sweet, twisted way, you knew that William Amos was your hero; he had saved you from something worse.

His yellow eyes were still staring at you. Christ, you were so happy that you didn't know how he was wishing how he had killed you! Slammed you in to the pond and drown you when he had his chance. Broken you with his fists and stomping feet. And screwed you too. When he had the chance.

So scared, trembling so. Grandmother drove you home; you had not wanted to tell her what you had thought of. There was not much of your life as an eight year old you told your Grandmother. You told your mother even less. But you were terrified of DeLucca; you seemed to know that he would kill you. And so you tried to tell your Grandmother about him, crying hysterically in the front seat of your Grandmother's car. You couldn't get out the words. You didn't even realise that you were outside a white townhouse, with your mother rushing towards the car and ripping away at the seatbelt and pulling you out and up, up in to her arms. Mother hadn't been able to do that a year ago so easily, but you weighed a lot less now. You couldn't stop the sobbing and the wailing and the screaming. It just kept coming and coming…

* * *

The night of December 12, three days before the trial, Richard DeLucca doused himself with gasoline and lit a match and left behind a shakily written not that was identified to be his handwriting: 

_God forgive me. I am very ashamed. This will make things right._

_R.D_

He had been drinking heavily that night. He was desperate, he had the craps and red ants were crawling all over his brain day and night. At the same time he knew he was innocent or doing anything to those females and everybody knew this including those females yet he was convinced the jury would not believe him, his lawyer said if he took the stand, which it was crucial that Richard DeLucca do, to present his side of things, like how his semen got inside the Sidle woman and how her blood had got splattered onto his clothes and caked up in the soles of his jogging shoes and how the prosecutor could about his "past history of abuse towards women." He knew he was dead, dead either way. He hated Gary Stevenson and Dean Roberts for leaving him and the others behind. The truth was Stevenson and the DeLucca brothers had come up, literally as well as figuratively, on the idea of ganging up on some females. But Gary and Dean were gone, Pip DeLucca went nuts and got himself shot down dead like everybody was saying, must have provoked the cop on purpose, suicide-by-cop. Pip had been high on the magical crystal meth again and he wouldn't have known his ass from his hole in the ground, pulling a blade on a guy with a gun. Jesus!

Richard DeLucca wondered why Gary and Dean had not taken him too. He'd always gotten along with those guys. If he ever saw them again, Richard had thought, he'd murder them.

He cast his doped up mind back to the other time he had been arrested when Donna had had to go to the ER, she'd testified against him and gotten an injunction. The judge had said two years and DeLucca almost blew out his previous two meals in to his pants before he had added to be served on probation. DeLucca and his mother had been practically bawling, so grateful. But this time, with the Sidle woman, Atkinson warned him not to expect probation if the jury came back guilty, the judge would give him the maximum. If the jury came back guilty.

"You only need to strike a kindred chord with one of them," Atkinson had said, "and you are home free, son!"

That night, they had all been at the high school watching the teenage cheerleaders in satin costumes swinging their asses and their breasts about. He couldn't prevent grabbing himself. He had a thing for younger girls; his buddies teased him about it. A female over twenty was a turn-off, they knew too much and made wisecracks about you're the size. A younger girl, a really younger girl like Lorena, a word he was delighted to have learned as it prevented him from sleeping at night, was a different case. No wisecracks, she would have been scared as hell and respectful. He hated that little bitch though and William Amos. She had squirmed like a crazed eel. But he would have done it, right there in the park, his little bitch until she was hisdead meat. The only guilt Richard DeLucca felt was not killing them, that way they might have never been caught. No witnesses, none of the shit he was in now would have happened and he wouldn't have to see his mother's breaking heart.

Now it was too late. The trial was starting. He could never get to girl. He had followed her a little though. He was fascinated by her; pretty and sweet faced, innocent with hair like her mother. It was a wild rush when they had passed in the street and she had noticed him. Lorena's face had gone dead white as if she was going to faint.

He thought maybe some LVPD cops might come banging on his door, looking for him; some crap about harassment of witnesses there was a law about. But no. Lorena Sidle had not told. In her heart, Lorena Sidle had a thing for Richard DeLucca, huh? DeLucca was worried about the forensics. He knew it was all real, "hard science." He had seen it on T.V; some kind of x-ray for semen, blood, hairs, clothes, fibers. He was lonely too! His friends were keeping their distance for now, even his relatives. And girls. Girl he had know since the early grades, they seemed scared of him. Even his girl cousins for Christ sake! It was insulting!

* * *

The charred and unrecognisable corpse would be discovered in the last morning of December 13 at the end of a narrow access road. It would require no medical examiner to determine that the body had been doused in gasoline and set afire. An empty gallon can was close by and a car was parked on the roadway, keys in the ignition. Jim Brass called in the license plate and was informed that the vehicle was registered to a Richard DeLucca. Brass had shouted this across to Gil, who in returndropped down his camera in despair and cursed. Kicked his SUV. He had wanted him to fry, but not like this. Greg checked out the car and found a handwritten note, framed. A professional who would be able to compare handwriting was brought in and it was confirmed that Richard DeLucca wrote the note. The photo frame, the notepaper, the car door handles, the interior of the car, the gasoline can: all were covered in Richard DeLucca's prints. On the ground close by the burnt corpse was a book of matches, also covered in his prints.

* * *

xxxx 


	12. Chapter 12

Last chapter guys. I can't believe it, it was only supposed to be five chapters and it's turned in to lots more…It took me ages on how to write this one... I really wanted to avoid sloppy soooo hopefully I did. Originally Iwas like lets do this but then if i did that with sara and grissom then it would take the focus away from the actual point...so...meh...and god I prey I have not anti-climaxed...Also guys, first multi-fic to be compleated...YAY!

disclaimer: I dont own any of the characters from CSI nor The story of Huckleberry Finn by M.Twain... is it by mark twain? Or did he do lord of the rings?

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave me comments:

-LarkinRoss, CSigurlie07, dark-girl-faith-sidle, Dybdahl, imz, Lacerta418, LadyJess,. myralee8, SGBS4L, shania1277, Tessa, Veronica10, KittyDoggyLover, Rhosslynne, Tashira Ronin, red lighting, sye04 and labyrinth.of.my.mind

You people have been so encouraging and so wonderful, I feel there aren't enough thanks for all you've done. The response to this story has been great and it means so much that not only are people reading it, but taking the time to tell me what they think. Your comments was what kept me at my keyboard typing, when I really should be doing other things, like revising or cleaning my room.Well, this was more fun... I am gonna miss writing it... Anyway thank you sooo much again and I hope you all have a great summer.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

* * *

You were reading an article. It was a cover story, an interview with the mother of the two DeLucca Brothers. Her grieving portrait was there, alongside with two photos of Philip and Richard, which were taken several years before, in happier times. It was written, "my son's were sensitive and Richard took his brother's murder hard. He was driven to this. He couldn't sleep at night, he could not eat and his bowels were never right anymore… I hope they are happy now! Those bloodsuckers, who hide behind the law, I pray to God that if there is any justice on this earth it is exacted in the right place and on the right people, soon." It was the summertime now, over a year ago since the incident at the park and you were about toturn nine. After the suicide of Richard DeLucca, all the rapists accepted prison sentences, thirty years each, with no possibility of parole and agreed to no trial. No trial. Mr Grissom and Catherine and Nick had come to tell your mother. No trial. Your mother was so grateful she burst in to tears. 

You and your mother stayed strong. Your mom once told you once, after a nightmare, that when you're afraid of something, what you want more than anything else is to make it go away. You had wanted your life back like the way it was before you went to the park, before you came to Las Vegas. You had wanted your life back to the way it was before you found out that there was something to be afraid of. You wanted to build a high wall and live your old life behind it. But you realised, it wasn't your old life, it was new one with a wall around it. You broke out of, but only recently you had begun to wear dresses again. Mom had been working her way out of her the violent experiences but she realised that she would remain a victim of it until she recognised the violence in herself; her willingness to give up the idea of being a victim followed in her realising that by withholding of passion and love and pleasure from herself, was a form of self-violence.

You prepared to turn the glossy page of the magazine over when your Mother covered your eyes with her hands, telling you to guess who she was. It was wonderful. She had promised you that were going to be a little girl again and she was never going to let you go. You chucked out fake guesses and until you cried out happily 'Mommy?' and she wrapped her arms around you. You felt as though your stolen childhood have been given back to, gift-wrapped and full of glitter and sparkles.

You could play again and this time, Momma could play with you.

* * *

"They judged it was him, anyway; said this drowned man was just his size, and was ragged, and had uncommon long hair- which was all like pap- but they couldn't make nothing out of the face, because it had been in the water so long it warn't much like a face at all." 

Gil, Lorena, a bed, a table and dimmed sweet and softlamp were the only things left in the beautifully blank lilac room. Everything else was either sold, packed or in San Francisco. Sara and Lorena had their very own house with a garden, where Lorena could run like a bush fire, picking up daises. Sara had picked a three-bedroom house for it's large, mystical garden and Sara would be able to follow Lorena's laugher until she jumped out and surprised her, infant arms filled lavender.

"They said he was floating on his back in the water. They took him and buried him on the bank. But I warn't comfortable long, because I happened to think of something."

Lorena wiggled forward, smiling with anticipation.

"I knowed mighty well that a drownded man don't float on his back, but on his face. So I knowed, then, that this warn't pap…"

Gil looked up from the book to find the child's wide blue eyes gazing up at him, her small pink mouth hanging and curved at the edges.

"This isn't too scary for you is it?" The child looked verypale in the lilac rooomand very pretty and her blue eyes seemed to big and bright for her small face. Her brown hair was carefully plaited and shivered down her back.

"No. It's good." She was in total awe.

"I remember how I used to picture that river. When I imagined it, it was all kind of dark and swampy…I'd get so scared." Lorena drew her knees and wrapped her arms around them and Gil imagined the songs of the swamp, the songs of the birds and the sound of water moving, and the leaves all around, waltzing to a faint and uncertain breeze that he had pictured as a child.

"But I liked it too. And my Mom would get under the covers with me and read these parts."

"I bet she is nice, your mom."

"Yeah, she is."

"My mom is too. My mom's great."

They smiled at each other.

"Do you want me to go on?"

"Yes please."

* * *

"I can't believe this is it. I'm not ready to say 'Goodbye.'" 

Sara removed herbrown sunglasses even though thesun was a bright yellow shining stone and few clouds stretched across the heavens like long silvery-white veils. She wanted him to know she was completely dry eyed. Her face was sad and she didn't bother to disguise it. She had spent yesterday and this morning saying goodbye. She would have melted if everyone were there when she packed her final things and drove off. Her arm was aching as she was carrying a large bouquet of daisies and zinnias and lilies and roses and gladiolus and other flowers she didn't know the name of, lots of different colours. They were beautiful but they would be dead before she got to San Francisco. Sara, Jamie and Lorena were road tripping back.

"Grissom...It's not 'goodbye'… it's just a... 'see you around.'"

Gil wrapped her so close and he felt Sara trembling and listened to her sweet breath.

"She's a wonderful girl, Sara. You did great," he whispered.

For an age it seemed he held her close as if someone was going to steal her. Gil watched the leaves of the overgrown trees waved to and fro continually as Saea saw her brother and daughter walking down the stone steps carrying the final things.

"It's gonna be good having you back in San Fran. My timing is always a little better when you are around."

Grissom found himself letting her go at the sound of a males voice and sweet girly giggle. His body grew cold, so cold it was as if some northern winter had found him in the gentle heat and had driven in its teeth. His mind was running rampant and undisciplined at the glorious idea of loving her…no letting her know that he loved her. Sadness came to him, as pure as pure love, and then pain, a pain true as pain.

Sara and Grissom looked at Jamie who was shoving the last boxes in to the back of the SUV. The light was picking up the auburn highlights in dark hair and his freckles werepopping uplike pus filled spots on his slightly tanned face.

"You wanna do the honours?" He showed Sara the key but she shook her head.

"Be back in a minuet, then we can get going."

"A minuet. That's not enough time."

She looked up at him, "It's not enough time, Grissom." Sara's hair was prettily dishevelled and her eyes glistening as if moons and suns were rising in them.

"Lo! Come say 'goodbye' to Mr. Grissom."

She was hugging a book. Gil bent his knees so he was at eyelevel, blue on blue.

"What's that?" Lorena looked to her side and realised that he was adressing a book covered in cut out pictures of lovely flowers and seasides and rainvows and fairy princess ladies with long curly hair. There was a group photo of the four members of the Sidle family. Lorena had varnished it with PVA glue.

"That's my journal." She handed it to him and his eyes looked at the colourful collage cover.

"It's a good idea, I always wished I had done that but I'd always get too lazy."

He fliped it in his palms to see if there was anything on the back. There wasn't and he handed it back.

"Maybe one day I could read you mine."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"That would be great."

The little girl stepped in to his embrace. She pressed her face in to his, her face nestled against his neck. Her breath came choked as if in sobs and he clasped her even tighter. Lorena wondered how to let someone go, how was she supposed to feel good about life, instead of listening to the breaking of her heart? The hardest thing she would ever have to learn was how to say goodbye.

"You take good care of your Mom."

Lorena looked down at the ground and then back up at him as he stood up. The sunlight was behind him and the sunbeams were so white, and strong it looked like Apollo's sphere had been placed on Gil's head.

"Go sit in the car, baby."

Lorena took a deep breath and twisted her neck up to her mother, pouting in protest but moved away.

Sara's face was pensive and soft and but no tears meandered down her cheek. She looked at Gil, one last time.

"You know…" Sara swollowed painfully. "I'm wasn't just your subordinate. I was also just a girl…standing in front of a guy…asking him to love her…" Sara was begging Gil to say something but he kept quiet. She sighed but smiled as well.

"See you around then." Sara turned away quickly, as though that was the only way to do it and she walked up to her car and sat in the back with her daughter. The noise motor of her car faded as it headed down to road until it reached the end and turned right.

Gil was so utterly unhappy that he hardly knew what he was doing and at one point it struck him that what he had done was mad. She had giving him a moment, perhaps the only moment left to give and he had tried to be heroic. He had forfeited her and his future happiness. They would keep in touch and hewouldvisit her when he could.Now her love and wisdom and strength had been carried far away, away from him. Age would enlarge her soul and make her glow. And he wouldn't be a part of that.

He couldn't be.

* * *

You would never return to Las Vegas. Not even with your own daughter, years later in another world. Even though you would have incredible and fond memories of Las Vegas, you hated it. It may be a city in the desert, a city on the edge of combustion and broiling in the summers with hot whistles for wind but it was cold, corrupted and brittle place, full of emptiness and desolate, dead hopes and crumbling dreams. In San Francisco you valued listening to your CD's in the room right next to your mothers, annoying her with boy bands that had blonde hair and pouted constantly. You valued playing soccer with your friends in the street. You didn't realise how soon you'd be reading your journal to Mr. Grissom and you underestimated how touched he would feel. You were just a little kid and you didn't ask anyone to make you special, but he did. 

You were nine, holding on to precious moments and believing in every fairy tale you were ever told as you stared out at that sea you had seen in your dream of dreams. You loved open space and the freedom and the hot sun and the sea breeze. The silver sand would sparkle when you would look down at it and to have the sand on your bare hands was lovely.You would recall how thee waves of the sun were the clearest amber andhow you wantedto count each bubble in the waves because they were like glittering pearls.

You didn't know what would happen next. You didn't know who you were going to be or what you were going to learn but you knew that life was about asking questions, like your mother did, not about knowing the answers. You had to focus on what was over the next hill; it was the asking of questions that kept you going. Wanting to understand even though you knew that you would never know the answers

You would beat on, like the boats against the currect, borne back ceaselessly in to the past and sing to your own little girl, "Further along we'll know more about, further along we'll understand why. Cheer up my brother, and play in the sunshine…we'll understand it by and by."

* * *

well that's it guys...please tell me what you think. Again thank you to everyone who has commented and read the story... Thankyoux 


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